


the bite of winter

by wafumayo



Series: Fate/ RNG [1]
Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Gen, Huddling For Warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27366907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafumayo/pseuds/wafumayo
Summary: One cold night in Russia, St. Martha and Siegfried share a quiet moment of warmth.
Relationships: Siegfried | Saber of Black & St. Martha | Ruler
Series: Fate/ RNG [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1998982
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	the bite of winter

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt table from [here](https://100themes.livejournal.com/268.html). The prompt was "cold"

Martha does her best to stop the involuntary trembling shuddering through her body, rubbing her hands over her bare arms and shoulders. Not for the first time, she wishes she had never discarded the red jacket of her earlier ascensions in order to focus on lightness and ease of movement. It's not as if the jacket had impeded her in any way, so why in the world did she do that?

In her paltry defense, when Master asked if she would be interested in hunting for mystic gunpowder, she never expected for their Master to Rayshift to the remnants of Russia. Not for the first time, she feels a strong sense of resentment at Tarasque. What kind of an evil dragon didn't have a fur coat? She has half a mind to summon him just to let out her frustrations.

No, Martha. Come on, Martha.

"Hallelujah," she murmurs to herself. She takes a deep breath, pain lancing briefly through her chest as the frigid air enters her lungs, and holds it. She releases her own shaking frame and clasps her hands together as if in prayer.

Reciting scripture in order to calm the mind and soothe the body is hardly a new tactic when it came to surviving extreme climates. But before Martha could even start, she feels a warmth settle around her shoulders.

She looks up in surprise to see Siegfried shuffle away, his polished armour reflecting the pale light of the fire, illuminating the area with every movement he makes. When she looks at her shoulders, she immediately recognizes the dark blue fabric as the tattered cape that perpetually flutters behind him.

"I thought you were asleep, Sir Siegfried," Martha calls out.

Her fellow dragon-slayer pauses and ambles back. "May I join you?" he asks in lieu of answering Martha's question.

"Please," Martha says, gesturing to the fire. She's still so cold that her muscles feel like they're seconds away from tightening up until she can't even move. But the residual warmth from Siegfried's body heat envelopes her like a balm, enough that she can shift over to the side. The dry and freezing tundra grass sends a jolt of ice lance through her body and she hides the shiver as best as she can underneath Siegfried's cape.

Siegfried seats himself down next to Martha and absently tosses a twig into the fire. Sparks fly into the air, dissipating into smoke. The silence is oppressive and awkward, and Martha clears her throat.

"If Lady Murasaki Shikibu or Sir Shakespeare were here, then they could perhaps make a poem about the inherent fleeting romance of fire was comparable to cherry blossoms," she says.

Siegfried nods. "Their poems would be amazing, considering how beautiful the canvas is."

"Indeed."

The awkwardness is back and Martha clears her throat again, burying her face into her arms. Off in the distance, under the screaming of the wind, she can hear the soft snoring of her Master and Shielder. No doubt the other remaining member of the Rayshift team — Kojiro — is keeping vigil by their side, as sleepless as Martha and Siegfried are out in the snow.

"Why didn't you stay inside with Master?" Martha can't help but ask. She tilts her head up and looks at Siegfried, whose gaze is focused on the bright blaze of the fire. Even though there's plenty of flame left, he tosses in another piece of firewood and allows the warm crackling sound to break through the still winter air.

"Sir Sasaki can handle any issues that may arise," Siegfried replies calmly. "I highly doubt that anything could break through the barrier you present, though."

Martha flushes at the praise, delivered so calmly and without any sort of inflection that it's as if he doesn't even realize how highly valued a compliment from _the_ Siegfried is. Knowing how humble he is underneath his otherworldly legend, she wouldn't be surprised if he truly doesn't understand just how saintly his reputation is, even compared to her own.

"Th-thank you, Sir Siegfried," Martha stammers but she shakes her head roughly. Her Rider self could hold normal conversations with Siegfried without any issue so just what is wrong with her? "But I enjoy your c—"

"In fact, compared to the Yaga that still roam this Russia, I would say that they stand absolutely no chance against your fists of justice," Siegfried continues. He doesn't turn his head to look at her, keeping his gaze focused on the fire as if hypnotized. "You are like a merciless storm, and the power that you wield is so awe-inspiring that —"

"Okay, stop!" Martha yells, leaping to her feet. It's amazing how useful adrenaline and sheer embarrassment are when it comes to kicking the cold out of her joints. Even though she is dressed in nothing more than her swimsuit and Siegfried's cape, she feels intensely warm. "My goodness, how can you say all those things with a straight face?"

Siegfried frowns and he finally turns to look up at her. "How else would I say them? They're all true."

There is a hidden list passed around the women of Chaldea, titled simply _Guys Who Would Be Great Husbands_. Siegfried is, to Martha's recollection, somewhere in the mid-twenties of that list. He's nowhere near as thoughtful or good at house chores as EMIYA is, and he is nowhere near as aesthetically pleasing as Yan Qing is (even though most of the Servants agree that Yan Qing's personality is so hard to put up with that he would probably never make it into the top five).

But there is such a quiet earnest and solemn honesty in his spirit that Martha can't help but feel. Special. Like she's the only person in the world for him and vice versa. It's not true, of course. Siegfried still loves Kriemhild and Martha is devoted first and foremost to the Lord.

She sits herself down again and huddles in close to Siegfried. When she feels the weight of his questioning stare at the top of her head, she says as calmly as she can, "It wouldn't do for you to catch a cold just because you're trying to be a gentleman to me."

"I'm a Servant. I can't catch a cold."

How dense! Are all swordsmen like this? If this was EMIYA or Yan Qing, they would have understood Martha's intentions immediately.

She picks up the corner of the cape and throws it haphazardly over Siegfried's shoulder. He's so broad that he can't completely fit under it unless Martha decided to hover awkwardly behind him. But she presses herself close, feeling the firm warmth of his shoulder against her own.

"How is it now?" she asks, looking up at him. She hopes that she isn't glaring too much; it's not as if she's angry but she's never been so close to another person — especially a man — out of her own will.

Siegfried glances down at her and quirks his lips in a smile. "It's warm."


End file.
